Gotta Straighten Your Priorities
by eclecticxdetour
Summary: COMPLETE[WINCEST of the SamDean persuasion][Rated M for Extreme SLASH][Sam is 15, Dean is 19]Sam's got homework and cleaning duties to do, but Dean's needs take priority over them


Dean cursed when he tripped over Sam's huge shoes sitting in the entrance way. He kicked the door closed behind him and then proceeded to kick Sam's shoes out of the way of the door.

"Sammy?" he called out, switching the grocery bags in his right hand to his left so he could lock the door.

Dean sighed when he got no answer and set the few grocery bags on the kitchen table. He loaded the milk, eggs, deli-meats and bread into the fridge before sticking the hotdogs and bagel bites into the freezer. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled a Coca-Cola out of the refrigerator and opened it as he walked towards his and Sam's room.

He surveyed their still messy room and his eyes landed on his little brother, legs spread wide with his school books sprawled across the floor in front of him. Dean pulled the tab off of his soda can and flicked it at Sam's head, hitting the lobe of his ear.

"Oy," said Dean, "I called your name when I got in and you didn't answer me."

Sam's brow furrowed and he muttered, scribbling something down into his composition notebook, not even taking notice of Dean's presence.

Dean frowned and said, louder this time, "Hey!"

Sam still didn't answer Dean's query and just flipped to the back of his Algebra II book in search of the answers to his homework.

Dean groaned quietly and strode over to Sam. He squatted down over his brother's thighs and tilted his chin up so he could look into Sam's eyes, "Hey, you even listenin' to me?"

Sam's eyes widened and he breathed, "Dean… when did you get back?"

Dean smirked and said, "Just got back, kiddo."

"M'not a kid," mumbled Sam, jutting out his bottom lip.

Dean laughed and ruffled Sam's messy hair as he leant in and placed a chaste kiss to Sam's mouth, "'Course you're not, Sammy."

Sam's pencil limply fell from his hand as he touched his tingling lips and he reasserted, "I'm not."

Dean sat heavily on his and Sam's full bed and took a gulp of his soda, "Never said you were little brother."

Sam pouted again and picked up his pencil, returning his attention to his homework.

Dean just shrugged a shoulder and looked around their room, pursing his lips at the mess he found. "Hey," said Dean softly.

Sam looked up at Dean and asked, "Yeah?"

"Didn't I tell you Dad wanted you to clean the house while I got the groceries?"

"So?" asked Sam defiantly.

"Well, our room and the living room are still a mess, buddy."

Sam sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, "I had homework to do."

"Yeah, and Dad gave you a job to do."

"I think academics are more important than a stupid job like cleaning is, Dean."

"Dad still asked you to do it and you gotta do what he says, Sammy. No questions."

"Well, _you're_ here now, can't _you _do it?"

Dean took another swallow of his soda, "I did the job Dad asked of me, now it's your turn, baby boy."

"_Man_," whined Sam, "seriously, I have a crap load of Algebra II homework to do, and Mrs. Phillips gave us a bunch of chemistry homework, too."

"_Sammy_," warned Dean, starting to rise from the edge of the bed.

"Okay, okay," ceded Sam, "I'll clean the freaking house. Jesus."

Dean finished off the coke and said, "That's better,"

Sam glared at his brother as he stood and said, "Jerk."

"Bitch," an afterthought, "the Mr. Clean is underneath the kitchen sink!"

* * *

Sam huffed as he leant against the vacuum cleaner, "You think you could stop watching The Powerpuff Girls and get off your ass and help me clean?"

Dean set the remote controller on the coffee table and looked from Buttercup kicking Fuzzy Lumpkins' ass to Sam and said, "Naw, looks like you got it covered."

Sam rolled his eyes and walked the vacuum over to the hall closet, shouting over his shoulder, "You're such an asshat, Dean."

Dean laughed and followed Sam into the kitchen. He took a seat at the kitchen table and watched as Sam filled up the sink with water and squirted some soap into the sink. "You can call me an asshat all you wanna, Sammy, but it ain't gonna get you out of doin' cleaning duties, dude."

Sam groaned as he set the plate he'd just washed on the drying rack, "I still don't see how I got stuck with house duties while _you _only had to go and pick up a few freaking groceries."

"Older brother rules, bro," Dean smirked at Sam when Sam turned around, "I get to pick the chores."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean and stuck his tongue out at him, "I hate you."

Dean winked at Sam and blew a teasing kiss at his brother, "You love me."

Sam snorted and went back to washing the dishes.

Dean leant his weight on the back two legs of the dining table chair and whistled lowly at the rate Sam was washing dishes. He settled back on all four legs and said, "Y'know, you're gonna make a pretty decent wife one day."

Sam scoffed but didn't reply.

Dean pursed his lips and walked over to the sink, leaning his hip against the countertop as he pushed Sam's hair away from his forehead and asked, "You gonna make a pretty wife for me, Sammy?"

Sam let out a bark of a laugh and pulled his wet and sudsy hands out of the sink and wiped them along the front of Dean's t-shirt. The action really should have pissed the fuck out of him and irritated him but it only made Dean yearn for Sam's hands on his bare skin.

"You're so full of shit, Dean."

Dean linked his fingers with Sam's and pressed against Sam's side, smirking against Sam's neck as he asked, "What? You don't wanna be my wife?"

Sam grinned against the top of Dean's head and kissed his hair, "Man, you're _still _a jerk."

Dean laughed, "Does that mean you accept?"

Sam shoved playfully at Dean's chest and said, "Leave me alone and let me wash the dishes."

Dean let go of Sam then, but just hauled himself up onto the counter. He watched as Sam set the washed plates and spoons in the drying rack and kicked his feet back and forth against the counter as he did so.

Then, however, was when Sam decided it was time to wash the larger utensils; the spatula, the butcher knife, and the grill fork.

Dean watched avidly as Sam squirted soap onto the sponge and wrapped his fist around the handle of the spatula, jerking his hand up and down the plastic handle and up to the top and between the grooves. Dean's mouth fell open as he felt his cock harden in his jeans. Really, watching Sam wash the dishes should definitely _not _be as arousing as it was, but the thought of Sam's hand clenched tight around his dick, instead of utensils, jacking him with lube slicked fingers was more than Dean could handle.

He not so subtly adjusted his erection in his pants as Sam quickly washed the other dishes and placed them on the dish rack.

Sam drained the sink and washed his hands before drying them off on Dean's shirt. He patted Dean's chest and quirked his head to the side, "Am I done cleaning yet?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, fumbling around for an answer before he licked his lips and stuttered out, "B-bedroom."

Sam sighed and put his hands on his hips, "But we're just going to make it messier anyway."

'_Oh yeah,' _thought Dean, _'I can come up with a _hundred _ways we can make it messier, Sammy boy.'_

"And? Dad said you gotta clean the house and that means _all of the house_; just, you know, not his bedroom. Not just the bathrooms, living room, and kitchen, either, but our room, too."

Sam dropped his hands to his sides as he started to walk to their bedroom with Dean hopping off the counter and following, "Okay, so after I clean our bedroom am I done?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder, "Yeah, I 'spose."

Sam turned to his brother when they got into their room and he beamed, "Good."

First, Sam set about picking up their dirty clothes and putting them into a duffle so they could take them to the laundromat on laundry day. Second, he gathered up their weapons and put them into a second duffle, however, leaving out his and Dean's favorite knives and a .45 for beneath-the-pillow weaponry.

All that was left on the floor, then, was Sam's book bag and his homework, but Dean knew that Sam would be returning to it later so he allowed for Sam to keep it on the floor. The only thing left for Sam to do now was to make the bed.

Sam cocked his head and asked Dean, "You mind helpin' me with the bed? I always hate having to walk around it and tuck the ends in…"

Dean shook his head, "Last thing to do, man, I think you can figure it out."

Sam huffed and chucked the pillows off the bed as he pulled the sheet up to the head of the bed.

Dean inhaled sharply when Sam pressed one knee into the bed as his too-tight t-shirt rode up and the little bastard wasn't wearing a belt, so the odd stretch of his legs made his pants ride low on his hips revealing the three lickable dimples above the swell of Sam's ass. And really, watching his brother make their bed shouldn't be turning him on so much, but hell, just watching Sam clean the kitchen made him all hot and bothered, so it wasn't a surprise that seeing Sam bent over the bed had his cock throbbing in his jeans.

Sam groaned in frustration when his current leverage wasn't enough and he settled both of his knees spread wide on the mattress so he could get the sheet tucked across the other side of the bed. But before he was even able to get the sheet tucked, Dean's firm body was pressing his slighter frame into the mattress. He face-planted on the mattress with a muffled 'oomf' as the entirety of Dean's weight settled on his back.

"'mon, De, needa fiss th beh," said Sam, as best as he could with his mouth smashed against the mattress.

Dean laughed and pushed himself off of his brother, his hands either side of Sam's head. He leant his head forward and breathed in Sam's ear, "What the hell did you just say, little brother?"

Sam jolted in an attempt to get Dean off his back and said, "I said, 'C'mon, De, I need to fix the bed'."

Sam's movement only served to provide friction for Dean's attention-seeking cock.

Dean grunted and pressed his forehead to the back of Sam's head as he flicked his tongue over the knob at the top of Sam's spine. "S'the point of fixing the bed when we're just going to mess it up again?" he asked with a pointed thrust of his hips against Sam's.

Sam laughed into the mattress, "Come on, man, you can't be serious…"

Dean rolled his hips and trailed his fingers down the side of Sam's neck, his hands trailing down Sam's sides to cup his ass as he rolled his hips against Sam again, "Does it _feel _like I'm not serious?"

Sam let out a muffled moan into the mattress and Dean smirked against the back of his neck. He rubbed his lips along Sam's neck as he said, "C'mon, Sammy, you can't tell me you don't want to _now_…"

Sam shook his head and pressed back into the rock of Dean's hips, his voice raspy as he asked, "How do you wanna do it?"

And _God_, the low timbre of Sam's voice had Dean keening low in the back of his throat as he whispered against Sam's hair, "Just like this."

Sam laughed and moved his head so his cheek was resting against the mattress, "With our clothes on?"

"No, bitch, with you on your front and your legs held tight so I can fuck between your thighs," growled Dean roughly, biting down on Sam's ear lobe.

"Mmm," hummed Sam in agreement, wriggling against Dean, "gotta get our clothes off first."

Dean groaned and sat up, furiously fumbling at the clasp and zip of his jeans in his haste to get them off.

Sam laughed again as he, too, sat up and pulled off his own clothes. Once Sam was naked he lay back down with his chest flush against the mattress, momentarily leveraged on his knees so Dean could get a glimpse of what he _could _be having.

Dean rolled his eyes and pressed the heel of his palm down on Sam's lower back, "Not gonna fuck you today, Sammy, you're still not ready for that."

"You let me fuck _you_," protested Sam as he wiggled his hips against the bed to get comfortable.

Dean bent over Sam's back and licked the dimples his tongue so longed to taste. He blew over his cooling saliva and grinned, satisfied, when Sam shivered. "That was different," he assured, moving to lick another dimple, "I've done it before, but you…" trailed Dean, licking the third dimple and then the mole on Sam's cheek, "don't wanna…_can't _hurt you, Sammy."

"Wouldn't hurt me," whined Sam, jutting out his bottom lip.

Dean just smirked and leant forward and captured Sam's lip between his teeth; nibbling gently as he said, "Don't wanna chance it."

"But _Dean_," insisted Sam, pushing his hips out and grinding back against his brother, "I _want _it."

Dean groaned and rubbed Sam's hips; kissing the spot between his shoulder blades as he said, "Know you do. I want it, too. So bad, Sammy, _so bad_."

"Then _take _it," breathed Sam needily, "want _you _to be the one to have it."

Dean shook his head and bit down between Sam's shoulder blades, marking his brother as his own, groaning as blood swelled just beneath the bronzed skin in a gorgeous purple-red bruise. He licked the spot and whispered against the bruised skin, "Not now…not now, Sam, but _soon_."

Sam whimpered and huffed, "_Fine_."

"C'mon, don't be like that," whispered Dean, turning Sam's head so he could get at his brother's lips. He briefly swept his tongue inside, teasing until Sam's tongue met his and pushed into his mouth. Dean carded a hand through Sam's unruly hair and grinned, "That's more like it."

Sam grinned right back, though his grin was less of the happy persuasion and more of the smart-ass, cocky persuasion as he rocked up into Dean, "We gonna keep talking all day or are we gonna get into some semblance of fucking?"

"Pushy ass," muttered Dean, hands on Sam's hips again as he lifted his brother's lower body from the mattress.

Sam looked at Dean over his shoulder, a curious quirk to his eyebrow, "Thought you wanted me on my belly?"

Dean couldn't keep the amused smile from his mouth as the word 'belly' fell from Sam's lips. "Naw," negated Dean, "want you just like this, alright?"

"'kay," gasped Sam when he saw Dean lick his palm and then jerk his dick a few times, keening when he felt Dean's saliva-slick cock nudge behind his balls.

Dean breathed out a laugh and said, "Close your legs for me."

Sam did as Dean bid and he grinned when Dean moaned. He shifted back and forth along Dean's length until Dean hissed through bared teeth and grasped onto his hips, stilling his motions.

"Hang on just a minute, man. Don't wanna blow my load so soon."

Sam's grin only widened at his brother's admission, "Washing the dishes really _did_ get you all hot and bothered, eh?"

Dean rolled his eyes and playfully swatted Sam's ass, "Shut up. It ain't my fault my cock got hard from watching you jerk off the dinnerware."

"Yeah," husked out Sam, clearing his throat as he continued, "'cause watching me clean grill forks and spatulas is so sexy."

Dean bent over Sam and rested his cheek against Sam's shoulder as he began to roll his hips in the channel between Sam's thighs, "Damn right it was sexy; couldn't stop thinkin' about your hand on my cock instead of that shit, Sammy."

Sam smirked and was about to retort but then the moist crown of Dean's cock was stroking over his perineum and the wiry hair at the base of his brother's shaft was rubbing over his sensitive entrance and his witty response was lost on a low moan.

"_Dean,_" cried Sam, rutting faster back against his brother, "needya to touch me, _please_."

Dean grinned wickedly against Sam's shoulder as he continued the shallow rocking of his hips between Sam's thighs. "Think I can manage that," replied Dean, slipping a hand from Sam's hip to rub over the fluttering muscles of Sam's belly.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath and his abs twitched as Dean's fingers tickled along his stomach. He felt Dean laugh against his back and he absently smacked at his brother, "Ass, that _tickles_."

"I know, s'why m'doin' it," said Dean, placing a gentle kiss to the crook of Sam's neck.

Dean could practically _hear _Sam's pout and Dean rolled his eyes, trailing his hand down Sam's stomach to finger his bellybutton. He swirled his finger in the trail of hair beneath Sam's navel and then caught them at the thatch at the base of Sam's leaking erection, tugging lightly and making Sam yelp with pleasure.

"Like that, Sammy?"

Sam groaned as Dean tugged none-too-lightly again and Sam balanced on one arm, guiding his other hand to Dean's hand and pushing it to wrap around his dick. "Want you to touch me _here_, Dean."

Dean smirked against Sam's hair and brought his hand up to lick a broad swipe along his palm. He let out a laugh when Sam whined at the absence of his hand and he wrapped his fingers back along Sam's length.

Sam sighed contentedly when Dean began pumping his cock in earnest and he moaned as they found a magnificent rhythm; Dean would thrust against his body as his hand pumped down on Sam's cock and then he'd pull back on the upstroke of his hand and swivel his hips as his thumb spread the precome pooled at the head.

It wasn't long before Dean was panting dirty swears and promises into Sam's ear and was spilling hotly between his brother's legs. He continued to pump his hips as he jerked his brother off, riding the aftershocks as Sam grunted with every stroke, crying out Dean's name as he squeezed and stroked just _so _beneath the head and Sam _screamed _his release into the mattress when he came.

Dean collapsed bonelessly on top of Sam and Sam fell forward with their combined dead weight. Long moments passed before Dean brought his come-saturated hand to his mouth and licked it clean, Sam groaning at the sight and pulling his brother in for a heated kiss.

They pulled away from each other's mouths with a wet 'pop' and they laughed uncontrollably at the innocence of the sound after all the hot groans and dirty grunts of their sexing.

Dean pushed Sam's hair way from his forehead and snatched up his own discarded t-shirt and cleaned up the hidden skin behind Sam's sac and between his thighs, folding it up and wiping his own sated cock of his seed. He chucked it in the general direction of their laundromat duffle and pulled Sam into his chest.

Sam sucked a bruise into Dean's collarbone and Dean fingered it when his brother leant back.

They lay in blissful silence, the only sounds audible being their slowing hearts and slightly labored breathing.

It was times like these that Dean's most brilliant ideas came to him, and this time was no exception. He looked from Sam's schoolbooks on the floor, to the laundry bag, and then to his and Sam's sweaty, intertwined bodies.

"Huh."

Sam lifted his forehead from it's place against Dean's chest and asked, "What's on your mind, man?"

Dean shook his head and said, "Just think 'bout how you gotta straighten your priorities."

"What's wrong with my priorites now?" asked Sam, annoyance at Dean's questions of his time management creeping into his voice.

"Nothing really, just…"

"What?"

"Well," and Dean's voice took on a very serious tone as he continued, "sex with me should always come before academics and cleaning."


End file.
